The mountains are far, far away, and can never be reached. Even after crossing the old alley, even after crossing the new city. A lifetime should have an inquiry, even if there are ten thousand lucky wheels intertwined, but also against the shallow night murmur. The ancients said, long in the cage, that think it is necessary to return to nature. Nature, can be the countryside in front of the house, can also be the field. Want to see some similarities and differences, then go farther, but those so-called several lines of the city country will not have to go, looking for some hidden in the mountains of the small town. Think of Mr. Congwen's Biancheng, shallow reading, Xiangxi's serenity, flow of light has been like a movie, frame by frame play, can see more, back to the simple people. But I think, there must not be any simplicity, that is only the poet - noble writer, please allow me to call Mr., because I think that is the poet, only the poet exists that a dream. And I think there are only two kinds of people who have a world of beauty, a poet and an essayist, and only they can fantasize, no, or build a city like that, which no one else can enter, only the author. The author is the key to that world, but where the key is, the author is unknown, perhaps deep in the blood.
A city to build, there must be a mountain, in the north of the city; there must be a bend in the river, in the city; there must be a pool lake, in the south of the city; there must be a plain, in the green grass. You can build an exotic gothic building or a city in a national painting. These are the only two kinds of buildings in the world to aspire to; all others will be. Just as a Gothic city has a church, a city in a national painting must have a tower. That's the people, that's the city. However, we must not find that kind of city, step back far away, looking for a small town in the mountains. In fact, there is no need to talk about what magic, those who can perfect a city embedded in the valley, that is the greatest magic, that is the gift of nature, may caress too heavy, reach the heart of the river tentacles will be washed away, the other, just snickering but pious prayers, but, that is to live in peace.
Modern times have been very developed, with airplanes, highways, ships, railroads. But by and large the most wishful thinking, is the river that a canopy; smoke that a train. One is a poetic faraway place, one is a dream faraway place. Only by boat has the look of sentiment, only by train has the look of dreaming. I am the big island can not see the sea people, just learn them, take a train to go. The train has been to the scenery; the scenery must have the train. The train is leisurely, stopping at a dilapidated platform, out of the station, you will see the city's atmosphere. Read a city, I thought I do not have to realize what, only two things, one is a small town secretly passed down the wild history, one is the station down the street. What is the city like? If you know these two things, you will understand everything. But let's walk a bit. From the station, turn left, or right. At this point, there are a lot of winks from the so-called underbelly of the city. They've worked so hard for so long, just for a little bit of salt and oil. Or maybe not. Maybe her home is bright and spacious, with a wide range of appliances, some of which are even aging. Some of them are villas, manor houses, no worse than those built in the popular parts of the city, but that's not what they crave. So maybe don't make a point of pitying or spurning them, a smile for her. Hip she took you on a special road, then go with her, you want to know the sound, will be pungent in your ears; do not sit, it is okay, just fade away, go, stroll around the city to go. Small streets will also be traffic, and the eaves of the first floor of the trees, just to cover the signboard of the opposite store, only to see a word for sale. Arrive across the street, but there is no small-town specialties to eat, not even the characteristics of this region, but one will certainly smile sincerely, and then go. Walk slowly. Milk tea stores, clothing stores, hardware stores, electrical stores, department stores, snack stores, trolley stores, banks, courier offices, government agencies all crammed into a single street, but each one will be that wide to squeeze in many people at the same time. When you come to a city, you have to eat its flavors, enjoy its flowers and plants, look for its monuments, and see its houses. One of the four is indispensable, then it is really not in vain to come. If you want to read it, stay longer. Have a camera better, holding up a camera walking through the five streets, can be a small writer, shoot some or beautiful or bright sad pictures; can be a reporter, shoot some pictures of prosperity or despondency; can also pretend to be an artist, weaving a few pictures with a story. Don't worry about going far away, at this time the light is still, only have the wish to see everything.
Walking through every inch of the city's street corners, will see the sleepy May; will hear the energetic children's tune; smelled the small home grand aroma; will see the Buddha said. All beings, in all their diversity, are condensed into an essence, clamoring over the city. The sound of guitars, violins, pianos, harmoniums, flutes, long pipes, mantle drums, I don't know in which house they are crisp and clear, from dusk to early morning, from early morning through the evening. Sitting in a cab at night, I feel so satisfied, I feel that pieces of my heart are integrated into every wave of the city's beating. There are youthful teenage girls playing, there are bouncing children of the new century, spiritual grandmothers dancing in the square, young couples arguing under the trees, middle-aged uncle looking through the sculptures. They are all in the little square. The square is on the edge of the creek. Roller skating weaves through the crowd, small lights flicker in the reflection. This is what you see in the city. The dark tide has stilled, perhaps you are seeing a group of people letting off steam for the night, perhaps it is the lives of others that you now see, but this moment may be the most cherished treasure of your life. Walked through the city, although not like a poet or prose writer that full of emotion, but the footsteps déjà vu. I believe that if you believe in reincarnation, this is reincarnation; if you believe in inheritance, this is inheritance.
Departure must be a train, tired, listen to a few ballads, or talk about the hometown of the song. The end note is this salute, this salute to that salute; this salute, this salute to that salute ..... The songs go through tunnels and across valleys. You sleep by the window, outside of which are rice greens, manganese mountains, blue peaks, sunsets, rivers, ships, green tiles, white walls ...... Another weekend, another early morning, wanting to go to a small town, wanting to go to a side of the field. But it will never feel that way again. On the table there is a Borderlands movie and a vernacular magazine. The magazine opened, the text reads: How long has it been, can no longer wake up in the splendor, how long has it been, only to know that the small town is actually I read the poet's pen that one of my mind, have been there, that side of the hometown.